


King Kyrgios

by Anonymous



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A day spent in the sand
Relationships: Nick Kyrgios/Stefanos Tsitsipas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7
Collections: Anonymous





	King Kyrgios

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ItsADrizzit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsADrizzit/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DRIZZ! I LOVE YOU! ♥

Nick gets off the plane just as aggravated as when he stepped onto it. He doesn’t like being in the dark and he especially doesn’t like surprises. But when Stef had texted him a fucking location on Google Maps, he hopped on the flight to Australia. Tired, jetlagged, and irritated Nick texted Stef when he had gotten off the plane.

 _You’d better have a ride for me Tsitsipas,_ he sends.

 _Only the best for you, your majesty._ , Stef replies. 

Nick puts the phone in his pocket, grabs his duffel bag, and looks for a driver holding his name on a sign.

\- - - 

Stefanos is laying on the sand in Port Melbourne when Nick arrives. He hears the scratch of the sliding door and looks up to see Nick blinking the sun out of his eyes. He looks beautiful, the gold and red of sunset gleaming off of him; it’s like nothing Stef has ever seen outside of quiet moments like this. Stef sits up, keeps his back to the door, so as not to ruin Nick’s _surprise._

“You made it, old man,” Stef calls.

“Is that what this is? You trying to kill me Stef?” Nick says. Stefanos hears Nick’s duffel bag hit the ground first. Then he the thud of Nick taking off one shoe, the other. He closes his eyes, concentrates on the sound of the ocean waves and then -

“What the fuck is that?” Nick says, incredulity in his voice. 

“Look, I didn’t have much room in my suitcase, so it was either these swim pants or nothing,” Stef says calmly. He’s not talking about the shorts, though they are closer to underwear than swimwear in terms of length.

No.

Nick is obviously talking about his black tank top that says one word in all white letters: KING.

Stef sees the grab coming a second before Nick’s arm swings out. He rolls to the side and kicks out a leg, swiping so that Nick falls into the sand. He runs into the ocean, Nick trailing behind him. Nick has been a total brat lately, to everyone, and with this suspension nearly over, Stef thought that this would be a fun way to blow off some steam, even if it means eating loukoumades during tennis season.

“Where did you even get that?” Nick shouts, laughing as he catches up to Stef. 

“I’m the number one Greek tennis player in history. They gave it to me at the airport,” he jokes.

They play in the ocean for a while, chasing and splashing each other until the sun goes down. They’ve made their way back to the shore when Stefanos feels Nick tackle him from behind. Nick tugs his hair back, puts a hand under his shirt. Stef moans softly, a smile creeping to his lips.

Oh, yes. This is precisely how he meant for this game to end. 

“That shirt is mine, Tsitsipas.”

“Then take it back… my king,” Stef says, right before his shirt disappears and his shorts along with them.


End file.
